


Damage Control

by Raspberyl



Category: Metal Gear
Genre: Alternate Universe, Dry Humping, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-18
Updated: 2014-12-18
Packaged: 2018-03-02 01:54:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,253
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2795486
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Raspberyl/pseuds/Raspberyl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>No one can blame you for wanting to indulge a little after a day of hard work, especially when your partner screwed up and left you to clean the mess. Placed in an AU where Raiden and Sam work together as mission partners for Maverick Security Consulting Inc. Samuraiden, borderline nsfw, one-shot.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Damage Control

"Raiden! Raiden, are you alright!? Sam, do you see Raiden!? Sam—!"

Courtney was usually a lovely workmate. She was responsible, smart, quick to gather information, and quite the looker, too. When it came to emergency situations, however, the blonde beauty did not handle herself too well. In fact, she was quite the _opposite_ of well. Courtney kept her cool to a degree, yes, managed to react fast as always, too. But worry would get the better of her eventually, and that usually meant that Sam's delicate ears would have to suffer her nervous, _ever so slightly_ shrill voice, voice that only got more strident when Raiden was the cause of her anxiety... which he was 90% of the time, really.

"Ay, settle down, gatinha." He rumbled, lowering the volume of her codec call on the AR display. "Jack's right here."

"Oh, thank goodness...! Tell him to find a landing zone and make contact with us, right! Now!" He winced and adjusted the volume even lower, wondering if there was a negative value for the damn thing. "Ever since he went into Ripper Mode his vitals are all over the place, and he—!"

"Eh, well, I don't think that's possible. He's a little... tied up. Knot quite available at the moment."

"... Excuse me?"

Sam rolled his eyes—He was a misunderstood soul, that he was. Since Courtney was in no condition to appreciate his wit, he explained his meaning directly: "He got his arms trapped under a bunch of metal."

"Oh! B... But he's fine?"

"Yes, yes, he's fine."

"What happened to the enemy?" This time it was Kevin's voice, calmer than Courtney's but just as concerned. "Can't secure an LZ if they're still around. Did you guys beat them already?"

"Yes, yes, _I_ did. It's all taken care of, so don't you two worry. There must be some sort of interference messing with Jack's nanos if you can't reach him, because he seems fine to me..."

"No, we're not getting any sort of interference." Kevin said, the note of worry in his voice transforming into irritation. "I think that idiot just turned his codec off—His visual input is off, too, and since you don't have one, he left us completely in the dark. I swear, when I get my hands on that guy..."

"He turned his codec off?"

"Hey, Jetstream. 'You done talking? 'Cause I could use a little help here."

The Ripper's rough voice interrupted his line of thought, and Sam let his hand drop from his ear cover, regarding the blonde with a raised eyebrow and a grin.

"They're trying to contact you through Codec, Jack. They say you cut it off."

"Hrn... Yeah, I..." He grumbled under his breath like an irritable child. Then again, that was what The Ripper always seemed to Sam: And irritable, spoiled, _murderous_ brat. "Just tell them I'm fine..."

"Already did."

He turned his attention to Jack, switching off his own Codec to cut Courtney's endless string of complaints short once and for all. The cyborg was hanging from the partially collapsed metal ceiling, that was adorned with dents and scratches just like the wall behind him, proof of Jack's previous efforts to pull himself free by kicking every surface nearby with his feet to no avail. The high-frequency sword was meters away from them both, which was not surprising: Raiden had the bad habit of using his sword as a dagger sometimes, which often meant risking not being able to retrieve it once it served its purpose.

Fool of a ninja.

Ah, well. Everything had turned out fine in the end, and the blonde's recklessness only provided Sam with more evidence he could use for whenever Raiden refused to accept his advice, anyway.

There was something else, though. A _benefit_ of sorts that came from having the cyborg restrained and vulnerable like that, slender body completely available for eyes to roam... Not quite a professional line of thought to have, true, but then again, Sam didn't really consider himself a 'professional'. He gave his mission partner a long, appreciative look before speaking up again, look that went unnoticed by Jack's avoiding eye.

"So... why did you turn your Codec off, if I may ask?"

"... None of your business."

"Heh. Well, I am making it my business, because otherwise you can just stay here and wait like a good boy while I go secure the landing zone."

Raiden rolled his eye. "It's not... It's stupid."

"Oh. That makes me want to hear it even more."

Jack glowered at him like he wanted the man to spontaneously combust under the intensity of his eye, yet the samurai didn't burn on the spot like he so wished—in fact, he barely even aknowledge it. Sam had been given that look so many times that he was frankly too used to it to be bothered by it anymore—Not like he ever _did_ care much about it in the first place, though.

A slow, boring minute passed in which both did nothing but exchange stares, and finally realizing that the man wasn't backing down by any means, Raiden gave up that strategy and grit his teeth, looking away once more.

"... You're an asshole."

"So I've been told. Well?"

His question was followed by another series of sounds and growls that, just like Jack's scowls, Sam already knew too well. The blonde's red eye wavered in place until he finally looked down in defeat, and he grumbled between tightly clenched teeth:

"...ssing..."

"Excuse me?"

"It's... it's embarrassing, alright?

Sam blinked. "Embarrassing?"

"Yeah, I... I'm supposed to be reliable, alright? I got this amazing new body to work with from Boris; I should be Maverick's greatest asset—and as The Ripper, I should be even stronger. So, being unable to get rid of a couple of scraps of metal is just... I can't let the guys see me like this."

A child.

He was speaking to the biggest man-child on the face of the earth, Sam realized. He took a deep breath, not because he was irritated, no, but because otherwise he'd start laughing right in his face—and he knew all too well that Raiden hated people laughing at him the most.

"... I'm sure they won't mind, Jack." He said, unable to completely suppress a note of mockery in his voice. "Besides, we all know _I_ am Maverick's greatest asset."

Raiden snickered. "Please. You're 80% human flesh."

"And yet I can still beat you in battle."

"Psh. That was _once_ , and I was in my old body. Every fight since then ended in a draw."

"Enough proof of my 80% flesh and muscle being more than capable of handling your 99% metal and wire, bonito."

"Don't—" When he heard the nickname Raiden stiffened, then looked around nervously like the corpses littering the floor could hear them all the way from hell. "Don't call me that."

"There's no one around, and the Codecs are off." Sam got closer to him, smiling at the blonde as he flattened against the wall on his back and gave him a warning glare. He didn't do much else, though, instead pointing at his own ear-cover. "Contact them once I get you out of there. They're worried."

"Hrn..." Raiden went limp with guilt and resignation."... Fine..."

"Good, good... So. Do they hurt?"

"Huh? Oh."

Sam pointed up to the crooked metal bars trapping his arms. They twisted around his wrists like anacondas, keeping his limbs in place with nothing but raw pressure. An average human would've lost their arms to their bite in an instant, bones crushed under their weight, yet Raiden was acting like he was tied by regular rope and replied to his question with an uncompromising shrug.

"Not really. I'm not even uncomfortable, to be honest. Not the first time I've had my arms trapped under stuff, either, so."

"Oh?" Sam smiled. "Didn't know you were into this kind of stuff."

Jack rolled his eye. "Very funny. If you're done being a smartass, can you help me get out of here already?"

"Hm. I suppose I could. I wonder if I could try and straighten up these bars, for starters... Then you could pull your arms free, I think, hopefully before what's left of this ceiling falls apart." Sam pressed his palm against the cold metal. "I wonder if my arm be able to take it..."

"What are you even talking about—Straighten them up!?" The Brazilian looked down at Raiden again, his frown deep and his eyes glimmering with impatience. "Just cut it, you _dumbass_."

"But that's no challenge—"

"SAM."

A chuckle. "Well, if it's just enough to cut them down, why didn't you just do it yourself?"

"How exactly am I supposed to do that if I can't even reach for my sword!?" Raiden snarled, then coughed, the Ripper's voice hurting his throat. "I tried that—I tried everything—I even asked Doktor to turn off my pain suppressors to spur myself on and maybe gain enough strength to pull myself free, but it turns out these things don't even _hurt_ —"

"Wait." Sam interrupted, raising his eyebrows in interest. "Your nanos are off?"

"Yeah, the pain receptors are off, at least. You know it helps me focus better. Anyway, these things don't hurt; they're just trapping me, so that was completely useless, and—"

"Hm. But your nanos are off." He interrupted again, and Jack narrowed his eyes.

"... Yeah, Sam, they're off. Need me to repeat it a third time? Maybe write it down for you? Oh, wait, I need my _arms_ for that." Sam chuckled once more, disregarding Raiden's snark with a movement of his hand.

"If they're off, that means you feel pain... among other things, correct?"

"... Yeah...? Did you hit your head or something?"

"I'm just saying it means you also feel this."

Sam rose his human arm and pressed a single finger to his abdomen, gently running it up, then down, then up again. Raiden rose an eyebrow, perplexed.

"Uh, yeah?"

Sam smiled, his hand stopping on the lower half of his stomach...

"That means you also feel _this_."

... then it ran lower, way lower, to his thighs, and Raiden reflexively tried to press his legs shut. Sam forced a knee between them, however, and finally understanding his intentions, the blonde started thrashing about and throwing kicks at random.

"Sam—Sam what the _hell_ are you doing—Codec's on, uh—!"

"Codecs are off."

" _We're in the middle of a_ _mission_." He growled.

"All that's left is securing a landing zone."

"No, you can't do this—!"

"Do what?" He said, low and innocent voice coming from a smile that was nothing but mischievous. His hands went up again and positioned themselves on his sides, yet Raiden still jumped like they were in the most scandalous places. "Come on now, Jack. It wouldn't be the first time we've done this kind of thing in the middle of a mission."

Raiden's eye widened in terror and he gave their surroundings another cautious look, like the walls had ears. Then, he whispered through gritted teeth: "I thought we agreed to never talk about that again."

"No, _you_ agreed to that. I agreed to never do it in a sewer again. And like I said, the mission is basically over, so..."

"Don't." He whispered when Sam's hands started moving again, his voice returning briefly to its regular, smooth tone. "I'm turning the codec back on."

"Wait, Jack, I don't think that's a good idea—"

"Oh, no you DON'T!"

Oh boy. Sam couldn't hear that, but he didn't really need to: He could get a good enough idea of what Kevin had said just from Raiden's painful wince. He turned his own Codec on out of wicked curiosity, and he heard the analyst's voice coming from Courtney's still-open Codec loud and clear:

"—dare cut us off whenever you want and worry us sick, then come back on only to save yourself from your _boyfriend_!? You've got a bunch of nerve, mister!"

"He's not my boy—We're not even—This is not—!"

"NO!" The Ripper's face scrunched up with guilt as he got scolded like a teenager found masturbating by his extremely religious mother. "No, no, _no_ sir, you will _not_ use us to your benefit in your marital problems—We've had enough pretending we don't know you two fool around whenever you freaking can! I'm cutting this transmission off right now!"

"Kev...!"

"You call me when you have the LZ secured, or when you have a proper apology for being such a damn jackass. Kevin out! You too, Courtney!"

"Aw, but it was just getting interesting—!"

"Wait!"

Both Sam and Raiden's codecs were abruptly cut off, though, and a heavy silence reigned once again between the two swordsmen. After a couple of seconds, Sam finally snickered, unable to hold back his mirth any longer:

"... I tried to warn you." He said, and Raiden shrunk like a scolded puppy. "He didn't sound very happy when I talked to him, so I figured he would start yelling as soon as you called."

"This... This is all your fault!" He replied, throwing a weak kick towards Sam that wasn't even close to connecting. "If you would just stop fooling around during missions...!"

"I don't remember you complaining." Raiden rose his eyebrows as high as he could, and Sam sighed. "Alright, my bad. Complaining is what you're best at, after all." And then, he rose the tone of his voice to drown what was about to come from Raiden's opening lips—more complaints, most likely: "What I meant was that I don't remember you stopping it, Jack."

"That's... Ugh." The blonde clicked his tongue, finally settling down as he was unable to retort to that; liked it or not, it was no lie, after all.

"Relax, it's not so bad. All we have to do is apologize."

"Yeah... I guess you're right."

"Of course I'm right. Now, continuing where we left off—"

"H-Hey—! What the hell do you think you're doing!?" Raiden flinched when Sam's hands slid down to the side of his thighs again, and the man only rose his eyebrows innocently in response. "Sam!"

"What? Might as well make sure we have plenty to apologize for, no?"

"You son of a...!"

"Easy, now." He said, taking a hold of Raiden's legs before he could try and use it to break whatever bones he could reach with them. "I'm just... doing a little check-up. Just making sure you're not... ah, injured."

"Wait, just—wait a goddamn second—Rodrigues—!"

His complaints fell on deaf ears, Sam being too entertained by the curves of his back and hips to bother listening. Generally he would've let anyone else go after so many negatives, but he knew Raiden all too well to take his whining seriously anymore.

Six months...

Six months, was it?

Yes. Six months of which the first half had been spent learning to read the Liberian's reactions in battle, and the second half had been dedicated to memorizing his reactions in the bedroom. Six months of experience that had taught him better than to pay heed to the cyborg's feigned shouts of indignation when things got a little too heated for him to control.

Half of what came from Jack's rational side of the brain was bullshit, he had learned. The man spent so much time pretending to be something he was not, that most of what he spoke when he was under a controlled environment was a conveniently deformation of the truth or a downright lie. It took an skilled mind to notice, and infinite patience to weed through word and word to find the real Jack through commonplace interaction.

Sam had both, so he knew. He knew that 'no' meant 'maybe' if he got flustered, and 'yes' when he returned his kisses. He knew that when his eyes narrowed and his brow curved, it was time to back off, and that his eyes gently fluttering close meant 'go ahead—I'll whine and bemoan, but I'll enjoy every second of it.'

"You look good in red."

He whispered that with his lips against the metal of his neck, placing kisses on the spot where his pulse had once been. He was sure Raiden could feel his mouth now that his nanos weren't blocking his nerve ends; Because, in spite of their name, the pain suppressors didn't only numb pain: They subtly anesthetized any kind of sensation, turning them into something blunt and dull. So now that they were off, Jack could feel almost like every human being and his breath hitched when Sam let go of the leg he was still holding up to explore the curves his other hand couldn't reach.

"They're gonna see my vitals." He rasped.

"Hm. I'm fairly sure they already know what our status is, anyway."

"That doesn't really make me feel any better."

He complained, but his legs, that were perfectly capable of keeping Sam at bay if he really wanted them to, remained limp even when he pushed his knee between them again. It was always easier when The Ripper was loose, he had discovered. Getting a honest response out of Jack was a cakewalk when the cyborg's irrational side was predominant, to put it simply, and even if with months of work Raiden had managed to put something similar to a leash on _Jack_ , he still couldn't completely control him.

Sam preferred it that way.

"Your arms seem fine..." He said, pretending to check for injuries, or rather, damaged parts and pieces along his artificial limbs. "Chest seems fine, too. Legs...?" He held them in his hands again, pulling them up to his hips. They automatically wrapped around him, and the samurai chuckled. "Looks like they're unharmed. What else, Jack? Your ribs? Maybe your _back_...?"

"Sam..." Raiden breathed out his name, half-hearted reprimand for fingers that buried themselves in the soft bits of his body, the gray and seemingly vulnerable synthetic material concealing the machinery inside. Those were the portions of his body that felt tact the most, where his artificial nerve ends resided.

Not quite enough to make Jack submit, though. He knew that—He knew Jack's cloud nine could only be reached through the few bits in his body that were still genuine.

"How is your back, Jack? Feeling any sort of pain or... discomfort?"

The red aura around his body seemed to pulse, and his crimson pupil regarded him with disdain under long, blonde eyelashes. "You're the only one who makes me uncomfortable, Rodrigues."

"Is that so?" He grinned, eyebrows risen in feigned shock. "That's no good. I guess I should make it up to you, then."

The prelude was his hand flat against his back, sliding from under the back of his neck to the curve of his ass. Raiden sighed, breath a little shaky with anticipation as his palm disappeared and was replaced by fingers that played for a moment on the nape of his neck, lovingly caressing what was left of his humanity.

A pause. They exchanged looks, heat.

And then his fingers slid down his spine in one swift movement that made the cyborg arch himself into Sam, mouth open to let out a moan that was held back by a sharp inhalation. A choked noise came out instead, and he was sure his lips on the synthetic skin of his face felt like nothing compared to the tip-toeing of his fingers on his back.

"Still uncomfortable, Jack?"

That came out a little breathless, to the samurai's surprise. He hadn't noticed he had been holding his breath as well, too enraptured by the sight of the blonde's pretty face and the feeling of his body trying to fuse with his. Of course Raiden didn't answer, instead kissing him to shut him up, his hips thrusting against his to the rhythm of his fingers. It was a reflex—Jack's soldier body lacked that particular set of organs, so he couldn't extract any pleasure from that movement. Sam could, however, so he heartily reciprocated, growling against his mouth while his other hand occupied itself squeezing his ass.

"Not complaining so much now, are we?" He said, licking the edge of his metal jaw. "'I bet your vitals are giving miss Collins a very clear idea of how badly you want this." Raiden managed to let out a snarl in the middle of his groaning.

"Anyone ever told you that you talk too fucking much?"

"You, every day."

His red eye didn't look as menacing when his cheeks were the same shade, burning with both shame and excitement. "I swear— _God_ , that... there—Fuck!" He arched when Sam buried his fingers on his lower back, never leaving the line that marked his spinal cord. "Jesus—I'm going to kill you when you let me go...!"

"Oh, are you? Do you want me to stop that badly, Jack?" He teased and received a growl as an answer. "What's that? Should I stop?"

"...'s not that..."

"Then what is it? You're going to have to be clearer than that, because otherwise we can just stop right here."

Jack growled and tried to kiss him again, only to have Sam back away from him, shaking his head with a grin.

"No. You're going to have to answer me."

"... _Sam..._ " He rasped, muscles going taut with frustration.

"Yes or no, Jack."

"..."

"Yes, then?"

In spite of his body begging him to continue humping his partner into the wall until it collapsed, Sam prioritized the mirth he got from teasing the blonde and broke away from him. Raiden gasped like a limb had been forcefully torn apart from his body, his unfocused crimson eye looking for his auburn ones only so he could glare daggers into them.

"You son of a bitch..."

"That's not really helping your cause, pretty boy."

"What do you _want_ from me!?" He barked, breath still agitated. "It's not like you weren't enjoying yourself like the fucking pervert you are!"

"I want an honest answer." He replied, though what he really wanted was just this—Watching Raiden struggle. "I won't have you saying ever again that I 'forced you' into this kind of thing."

The Ripper bared his teeth. " _Fuck you_."

"Hm, I thought so." Sam unsheathed Murasama, smug smile never leaving his face as he started moving away from the blonde. "Then, if we're done here, I'll go clear the place a little from rubble so the guys can get a good LZ, alright?"

He turned away, and only managed to walk one step forward when, just like he had predicted, Raiden's voice rose up again:

" _No_."

"'No'?" He repeated, stopping in his tracks. "'No' what, Jack—?"

It happened in a flash.

Just as he was turning around to face him again, Raiden swung away from the wall and kicked the hand that was holding Murasama with one of his feet. Both because of the pain and the shock, Sam let go of it without any more resistance, and before it even touched the floor, Raiden took a hold of it with his other foot, quickly grasping it with his heel. Then, flexible as always, the cyborg simply swung his legs upwards, easily cutting through steel with the red, burning blade of his partner, and, finally free, he pounced at Sam who could only raise his hands and fall to his back with a pleasantly surprised guffaw.

"Oh! So this is what you meant by 'no'?"

Jack wasn't nearly as amused, though. "You're finishing what you started."

"Heh. And if I don't?"

A crooked smirk from The Ripper.

"Then I will."

He smashed his mouth against his and Sam replied to the kiss however he could—Though there wasn't much he could do with the other's tongue trying to get into his esophagus. A surge of laughter was born from his belly and Jack broke away so he wouldn't choke, his claws scratching the surface of his exoskeleton impatiently.

"Alright, you've made your point. Go ahead, do what you want."

"'was planning on doing that, anyway." And he really was—He hadn't even let him finish that sentence before his fingers busied themselves with getting rid of his codpiece.

"I will have to beat you a little bit later for touching Murasama without my permission, I hope you know."

"Psh. You can take this as my apology."

Impatience getting the best of him, Raiden tore the belt keeping his codpiece in place to easily push it aside while his other hand started clawing at the fabric on his hips.

"Tearing my suit apart? Not quite the apology I was expecting—Ah—That—That's more like it, though—" He stammered gracelessly as Raiden's cool mechanical hand sneaked underneath his suit through the hole he had made and started exploring more _interesting_ places below the belt. Sam threw his head back, abandoning himself at his partner's mercy with a smile. "Yeah—That—That's more like it..."

"'Thought so."

Raiden licked his lips, then opened his mouth, hinting to his next move—A little too cocky for someone who had spent half an hour pretending to hate every single caress he received. But Sam let him be; it wasn't in his nature to refuse his not-lover the pleasure of giving _him_ pleasure, after all. He simply laid back and relaxed, feeling Raiden's weight move lower down his body and hoping the rising rate of their vitals would give Courtney enough material to gossip for a week.


End file.
